Their Little Wooden Puppet
by PoshBosch
Summary: Nobody likes change. Nobody. So when things start changing for the worst and The Drakes find themselves under their new house in a grubby little town that nobody's ever heard of they just wants to get out of there as quickly as they can. But somebody wants them. And won't let them leave until somebody pays. And they don't care who it is...
1. Chapter 1

**This is chapter one as an edit. **

**I've recently been editing all my stories and decided that the first couple of chapters needed a face lift. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Drake Chronicles. Alyxandra Harvey does.**

Lucy's POV

"Oh, Nicky. Why can't we just go back to Violet Hill?"

Sometimes being the best friend to a sixteen year old vampire-princess-to-be had its down sides. Most of the time the glamorous part didn't even come into the picture. Ninety-nine percent of it was the sitting-at-home-worrying-when-the-hell-it-was-safe-to-go-outside and the other one percent was the actual action; the butt-kicking, vampire staking action.

This was one of those horrible days. Not because I was sitting at home, though. My small environmentally friendly house I shared with my parents was thousands of miles away in my equally environmentally friendly town.

Because of Solange's crazy lifestyle, and because she's always being stalked by mental vampires that've always had this crazy notion that she, my level-headed best friend, would want to be perused by them, we had to, in total secrecy, hop on a private plane and fly over an ocean to get away from them.

Initially, they didn't want me to come. As I'm totally human, and apparently vulnerable, they thought it in everyone's' best interest to leave me at home.

And because I'm stubborn at heart, I argued against them, saying that my home wasn't my home without them. Naturally, that hadn't been enough but I kept persisting, casually dropping hints into conversations and sometimes just down right begging.

I finally had a breakthrough. They all agreed, though reluctantly, to let me accompany them on their move.

Nicholas, who's one of Solange's seven older brothers and has a tendency to want to argue with me over stupidly small things, had gone with me on the first plane, saying that it'd be safer if we didn't all go together. His family had seen the logic and that had been what had happened.

Quite a few hours later, we'd arrived in a dingy part of the new town. Luggage that we'd haled in through the gate had been dropped carelessly at our side on cracked concrete. Night is the only time we can travel, and it hangs on us like a wet blanket.

We are waiting restlessly out in the yard for the rest of his family to arrive. They have the key so we can't look inside.

"Oh God, Lucy. You know why," sighs Nicholas, annoyed.

Of course I know why but that won't stop me whining about it.

"It's just," I sigh back.

The weight of what I've done finally sits itself on my shoulders, cruelly taunting me with the knowledge that maybe, if I ask with enough respect, I could go home. I won't, though, because Solange is important to me and whatever is her problem is my problem and it won't help if I run away form it.

"It's just," I continue. "They're vampires, Nicholas. The problem's not just centred on Violet Hill, is it? There're bound to be Vampires somewhere around this area, right?"

"Yes." He runs a hand through his hair, agitated. "No. Maybe. But, Lucy, there won't be as many and they probably won't know about Solange in as much detail as the ones do back home. Plus, it's the only plan we've got to keep her safe."

I clench my jaw when I hear his voice crack slightly. Nicholas is normally the strong one in the family, apart from Quinn. If not strong, then persistent, and he hasn't been that in a while.

I'm starting to worry about him. About the whole family, actually.

"I can see that," I smile softly.

There's a pause in our conversation. Crickets chirp at a safe distance from us, watching from the shadows of hedges and the trees lining one of the high fences sealing us in.

The yard is separated by another small low fence running across the middle, with a broken gate the only gap for us to get to the bottom. It's long and darkness engulfs the end, swallowing the reminisce of a patchy lawn and the start of a shattered green-house.

Home sweet home, I guess.

"When are your family getting here?" I ask finally when it feels as if the silence has stretched on long enough and the idea of monsters strolling out of that darkness gets too much for me to think about alone.

"Soon, I hope." He looks at me with an odd expression. "Oh, and Lucy?"

"Yeah?"

"What're you doing?" He looks me up and down, an eyebrow rising in a sort of amused way.

I look down to where he's staring, find nothing odd about myself. "Nothing, I don't think."

"You're jigging."

"I am?"

I look down again, see that I'm hopping from foot to foot, hunched in a painful way. I make an effort to relax my muscles and concentrate on breathing. Because I'm now paying attention, I realise wind licks our bodies, hard and fast, shaking the trees until the leaves shake together in a beautiful melody. And that I'm getting cold, freezing actually, goose-bumps rising on my arms under my coat.

I huddle further into my jacket, wishing fruitlessly for a little metal key that's currently flying over miles of ocean.

"Are you cold?" Nicholas's brow creases in concern.

"A little," I admit.

"Here." Nicholas shrugs out of his own coat and walks to me, handing it to me with a slight smile playing on his lips.

Grateful, I take it form him, slipping it over my own. It's warm and smells like him; a comforting mix of peppermint and sunshine and something that's just Nicholas. And then I scold myself, giving myself a mental slap on the head.

_Why do you even know what he smells like?_ I ask myself. _It's_ _Nicholas, it's not like you've been looking out for it._

But even though I tell myself not to react to it, I can't help it. I melt into its warmth, its safety and tranquillity with a wildly beating heart. It's then that I notice that he hasn't moved away, and that he's only a few agonizing inches from me.

His eyes are pale and gentle. It feels as if I'm falling, falling forever into them. There's no time for the confusion I'm feeling, and I push away the small part of my brain that screams that it's Nicholas and I should step away before something happens.

Maybe I don't want to step away, which is of course is completely mad.

"I'm sorry," he breathes.

"For what?" I whisper back.

Almost subconsciously, his arms wrap themselves around my waist, pulling me closer. I don't protest; almost welcome the coldness his embrace brings. His breath ghosts over my face.

His eyes are sad. "For everything, really."

"I'm sorry, too," I hear myself saying, and realise that I have been for a long time.

I wind my arms around his neck. My heart is racing so fast he must be able to see it. He starts to lean in slowly, giving me time to pull away if I want to.

_This is crazy_, I think quietly as I lean in too.

I want him to kiss me, to feel his lips on mine, even if it's only for a second. It's crazy, it's mad.

I can't believe this has never crossed my mind before.

He comes closer and some of his tousled brown hair tickles my forehead. Lips come closer, closer, so close, closer still until there's just a whisper of space between us. And the gap is closing even at that moment.

And then—

And then…

I fall backward, the weight supporting me suddenly gone. Mud and cold concrete greet my face instead of the lips I was so longing for. Behind my fallen form, I hear a gate swing open and muted muttering and a quiet complaining accompany a pair of feet.

"Oh, my God, Lucy!" Exclaims the familiar voice of my best friend.

There's a thump as Solange drops something like a suitcase or a bag, and the pounding of her feet becomes louder as she runs over to me. She crouches down beside me and I look up to her, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry about this," I say, trying to shrug.

"What did Nicholas do this time?" Her choppy black fringe falls in her eyes as she spears a look over my shoulder, presumably where Nicholas is standing. "What did you do?"

"N-Nothing."

Solange offers a hand to help me up and I take it, pulling myself up and spinning to stare my own set of daggers at Nicholas. He avoids my gaze quite successfully, rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward way that really doesn't help our situation at all.

"I just fell, is all. Nothing really," I offer.

Solange looks at me, suspicion burning in her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yep."

The rest of the brothers pile into the yard then like ants or cockroaches on a mission. They're all carrying cases on their shoulders like they weigh nothing at all. Sometimes not having vampire super strength can really leave a girl feeling like the odd one out.

"What's been happening?" Drawls Quinn, setting down his load and coming to join his brothers in the tight circle they've made around me like I'm some injured bird that needs rescuing.

"Nothing. Can we look at the house now?" I ask impatiently, not really wanting the topic to swing around and hit me in the face again.

Marcus looks between Nicholas and I as we all shuffle of to the front door of the house. A bead of sweat instantly forms on my brow. Marcus has always been the most observant of the entire clan, noticing things that most people generally overlooked. Normally, it was useful, especially when you'd lost your keys or phone and was in a hurry, not useful when you were trying to hide something.

Sebastian digs around in his pocket, producing a shiny little key that fit the lock of the particularly ugly eye sore of a house. It barely stands upright on its own, paint peeling and damp growing in a dark patch around the door.

As I said, home sweet home.

Sebastian jiggles the key in the lock and the door creaks open to reveal a yawning dark abyss of nothing.

I'm the first to step inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**This is also an edit of chapter 2. I hope you like as I've been working through the night on this one.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Drake Chronicles. Alyxandra Harvey owns all of it. **

Lucy's POV

Being the only human amongst a large group of vampires mostly left me feeling able to do nothing. Their extraordinary vampire sight allows them to portrait what to humans would look like a wash of black as a full picture of shapes and angle. But this is the one time I'm actually glad that I can't make anything out. I'm judging the interior is no better than the exterior due to the sounds of disgust leaking out of the brothers mouths.

In the end, because I just can't handle not being in on the secret, I cave. "Does anybody have a torch? Anybody, maybe?"

Almost immediately an answer cuts through the darkness, confusing me when I hear the mostly masked sound of suppressed eagerness. "I have a torch, Lucy."

Nicholas's voice. It wraps around the spaces, filling them with the soft flow of his honeyed words. Despite the lovely sound of it, I ignore it, pretending he hasn't spoken. It feels like I'm being mean but I can't act like nothing happened out there, that nothing was going to happen, if given the chance. He may be able to be all suave and cool about it, but I couldn't. I have questions and they need to be answered and I'm not going to utter a word to the man before they are.

"Does anybody have a damn torch?" I repeat stubbornly.

"Me," says the same voice, though this time with a hint of annoyance.

A blunt object forces itself to land on the side of my rib cage. A second ticks by before I register the coldness of it and then another until I realize it was Nicholas's elbow.

It's getting kind of hard to resist the temptation to punch him in the nose.

"Torch please?"

Solange finally spoke up, saving her brother from any injury I might have caused him in the next minute. "Seeing as you are ignoring Nicholas completely at the moment I'll let you borrow my torch."

There's no way in hell I'll ever tell her about Nicholas and I, but sometimes I just don't need to. We get each other inside and out. Sometimes we're on the exact same wave length, sometimes completely opposite ones, but we'll always have the bond that links us together, even when we first met.

She hands me the desired item. I switch it on, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dazzling display of rays. Eyes reflect the light back like an animal. For the first time since entering the house, I can see the siblings. They're standing close, faces pale in the white light of the torch until they're almost glowing.

"Why don't you want to talk to me?" Asks Nicholas, hurt clouding his voice.

I give him a look over the top of my outstretched arm. Brothers on either side of him turn their heads a fraction of a centimetre towards him, gauging his reaction. Shadows cast long mysterious lines over their faces.

Realisation dawns to him then, and he nods sharply at me. "OK then."

"Something did happen while we were gone, didn't it." Says Solange curtly, gaze snapping between us with the accuracy of a hawk hunting for its next meal.

I give in to a tired sigh. I've never been good at keeping secrets, especially my own. And I need to vent, get it out of my system before it festers and makes me go insane.

"I'll tell you later," I promise her.

"No!" Nicholas jumps forward, voice urgent.

Cold fingers curl themselves around my upper arm. Despite the tone of voice, his eyes are gentle, pleading with me to keep it to myself. Surprisingly, I find myself nodding, to caught up in the moment to protest. Connor narrows his eyes at us, but stays blissfully silent. Duncan looks away. I'm so glad that they don't ask any further questions because I don't think I would be able to answer any, at least not to the point where they'd be satisfied.

Spears of frost seem to be coming form his clamped fingers. "Erm, Nicholas?"

"Yeah?"

"You're still…" I trail off and shake my freezing arm up at him.

"Oh, sorry," he mutters awkwardly, releasing his hold.

He steps back into the waiting ensemble of brothers, murmuring apology like it's gospel. Quinn catches Logan's stare, and they look at each other meaningfully over Nicholas's shoulders. Oh God, I really hope they're not figuring it out.

"Who's ready to explore then?" Thankfully, Logan's voice breaks the awaiting tension like a knife.

"We are." The monotone of so many male voices sounds like a tired groan. There's no enthusiasm or excitement, only boredom and the tiniest trace of fear.

It's finally time to look around. I can't help the dread that pools in my belly. I have a weird feeling about the house, like something bad really is going to stalk out of the darkness and take everybody away.

The design is actually worse than I anticipated if that's possible. It was probably a really nice family kitchen before it was left to rot under a mountain of dust and damp. Now it's beyond repair, dripping and creaking, oozing and groaning things that never should be seen in any home. The only thing that's not totally ruined is a set of drawers attached to the wall. Not being able to stop myself, I approach them, finding, for some reason, my arm to be fluttering closer without my consent. As soon as the ends of my fingers brush over the grainy surface I snatch them back, clutching them to my chest to try and rub the stinging out of my bones.

Wood's never been a problem for me before. Still, I'll avoid it in future.

Connor and Marcus stay with me, the rest of the brood moving on to the next room. Under their own set of rules, at least one brother must have to stay with me at all times. They're hovering close but trying to look like they aren't following my every movement out of the corner of their eye. Connor picks up a battered looking manual, inspects it bitterly and throws it away into the shadows.

"This is great," he mutters to himself.

Marcus looks at him, half of his face hidden in shadow. "It could have been worse, Bro."

"I guess."

A door opens. Words become quieter, muted by a wall. "I think we should catch up to them, guys," I say.

They tilt their heads, listening to sounds I can only dream of hearing. Nodding, they grab onto each of my hands and pull me through a door rimmed by crumbling pea green paint. I can't and don't wish to see much of the living room, so I keep my torch trained on the floor. A dark cloud of dust presses down on us, clawing at skin and clogging up throats in a desperate attempt to save us from the horrible décor disaster of the house. The rest of the Drake's are waiting through another door and down a long hallway. Portraits framed by shining gold watch us as we greet them, torch light glinting of frames and bored smiles.

"First floor to your liking?" Asks Logan.

"Very little, kind sir." I say back, smiling slightly. "Lets us see if the second does any better."

The stairs are dark, leading up into an even darker space. It's cold, a draught blowing down from some hidden source. I can't help but let my imagination run wild, and can't stop myself from comparing the cavern of space to a monsters mouth, ready to swallow us unsuspecting innocents whole for its next hearty meal.

"Right." Sebastian rubs his hands together. "After who?"

"After you?" suggests Nicholas.

Sebastian glances up into the mouth of the beast, smiling in a way that shows his fear but doesn't make him look cowardly. "No way, man. I'm not venturing up blindly."

"Right." Duncan claps his hands on his brothers backs, hanging behind them like an encouraging shadow. "Not me either."

"Come on, guys," groans Solange. "Where's your 'white night complexes' when we need them?"

"They're just chicken," I say with a gulp of laughter.

"Hey, no. Wait!" Quinn steps forward, squares his shoulders. "We are _not_ chicken!"

"Oh yeah?" I challenge. I lean forward, making sure my face is inches away from his, eyes glowing with mischief. He raises an eyebrow, almost grinning. Nicholas frowns from over his shoulder, brows furrowing. Interesting.

"Prove it."

He steps back, spins on his heel to face it, foot colliding with the tongue of the beast. "Fine."

His brothers turn to look.

I smile. "Looks like we have a winner."

We climb in silence. I clutch the back of Solange's shirt, not wanting to voice that I'm scared but being to coward to ignore it completely. Stairs creak under old boots. Breathing echoes. Quinn leads the party all the way up, braving the dark and the secrets it may hold. And then something hits my cheek. It stops me, my foot freezing mid-stride. Nobody else seems to have felt it, carrying on onto the a landing when the stair finish. That's weird in itself because it hangs right in the middle of the air, and as everybody's a lot taller than me then it must mean that they're really good at ignoring things, that they thought it was just a harmless spider or they were ducking low.

My hand feels its way up to it, finding a long chain with small links. Even when I'm going by touch alone I know for certain that's its jewellery. A hard, slightly curved object hangs on the end of it. Curious, my hand closes around it and pulls, snagging it from it's holds and into my closed fist.

Thankfully, the Drake's haven't realised I'm not with them, scattered to explore the fun the second floor has to offer. That's why I feel safe to flash my torch up, knowing they won't venture over to find out what I'm doing. I gasp when the light grazes it, glinting off it.

A tooth.

More importantly, a fang. A long thing attached to the chain by a thin stretch of leather cord. Small words are engraved on the side of it, curving to fit the shape.

I silently thank Liam for teaching me Latin.

Ego sum expectans te – 'I am waiting for you.'

Not daring to think what that means, I stuff it into my pocket. It feels like a problem for later, like a problem to sit down and have a good think over. But not now. Hurrying up the rest of the steps, I stop on the landing.

"Guys!" I call.

Eight head poke out of doors. "Yeah?"

I spear a glance at the door behind me. I almost didn't notice it. I didn't know what it was about it but it was like it could almost blend in to the background, melt into the wall and cover itself in high end camouflage paint. "What's in this door?"

Logan's brow creases in confusion. "I hadn't seen it."

A chorus of agreement follows as they abandon their separate searching to come and join me. Nicholas wastes no time in kicking the door down when the lock proves unsuccessful. We file in, noting the rusty brass taps and the broken shard of mirror over the sink. Lights flicker, flicker, flicker and then buzz. White sparks flash and I'm blinded, blown back a couple of steps by the force.

A door slams, closely followed by the sickening sound of Solange's piercing scream.


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N Thanks for waiting for this chapter and for staying loyal to this story! **

**I'VE DECIDED TO WRITE THIS STORY, FROM NOW ON, IN THE PRESENT TENSE. I FIND IT EASIER TO WRITE THAT WAY.**

**Enjoy…**

Nicholas's POV

There is total blindness. Even the small buzzing lights attached to the ceiling have blinked out. My vampire sight doesn't work in pitch-black, no more than a humans can, but I hear a sound so familiar and unwanted that it twists my guts. A sound I'd never thought I'd hear again, and one I don't need sight to recognise.

Solange. Screaming.

Footsteps, mine included, pound over to her. Though we can't see her, we know exactly were she is in the cramped bathroom.

Pained whimpering replaces the screaming. The thick, coppery smell of blood sticks to my nostrils, making me sick.

"Solange, what happened? What's wrong?" Lucy.

Unwillingly memories of the courtyard flood my mind. Only one second do they take centre stage and then the sight I see, though all in varying shades of grey, snaps me back to the brutal present.

My brothers faces, shocked and horrified, all staring at the pointed arrow that sticks out of Solange's chest. Not her heart, I note through my panic, but pretty damn close. Blood oozes and bubbles out from the wound, and drips down her shirt. Solange's hands flutter over the arrow stick along with Lucy's, trying to pry it free.

"Don't Lucy. We'll do it," says Logan, trying to stay calm for Solange's sake. I could have told him there's no point, everything's already pretty shaky.

Lucy takes a step back, making room in front of Solange so Logan can get a clear grip on the arrow. The rest of us stand so still you could probably mistake us for statues. Logan's hands close around the arrow.

"Solange, this is going to hurt."

She nods bleakly. "Just get it over with."

Logan pulls. The arrow squelches free and lands on the floor at his feet in a small pool of blood.

One of the up sides of being a vampire was the quick healing. The wound in her chest, though severe and bad enough to kill a human on site, closes. The skin knitting back together until the only evidence there'd been a wound at all is the ripped clothing and the blood on the floor. Before we can stop her, Lucy wraps her arms around Solange for a hug. Though the wound has disappeared, it is still tender and she will still be weak. Solange winces when Lucy's chest touches hers, but she gives a feeble attempt at returning the hug. It makes me sad to have to interrupt their moment, but I have to. I gently pull Lucy off Solange, ignoring the shot of heat up my arms.

"She's still weak," I whisper in her ear.

My brothers all rush up to Solange, offering hands and asking her if she is OK. She says she is, but she needs to sit down.

I haven't let Lucy go. My hands feel as if they can't ever let go.

"Why aren't you over there?" Lucy whispers to me.

"There's nothing I can do for her. She'll regain her strength in her own time. Plus, I know all the fussing annoys the heck out of her."

"Yes, it does," She turns to face me. "Why hasn't that stopped you before?"

My hands fall to my sides. "Because I know it's the only way to keep you two safe. Me prying and finding out what you're up to."

"Oh." She looks down at her feet and then back up into my eyes.

"That should annoy me, but it doesn't." She prods my chest, drilling in her finger. "Cherish these words I'm about to say to you, Drake," She says fiercely, but then her voice softens, becomes almost husky. "Thank you for the thousands of times that you've probably saved both our lives in the past. And sorry that I've never said thank you for that before."

Though my shock has widened my eyes, I still say "Don't mention it, Hamilton," with a lazy smile.

Just as she's about to return it a wind picks up. It's icy and it's impossible since we're in a bathroom, with the door shut,_ and there are no windows, _but here it is, whipping Lucy's and Solange's hair into their faces, chilling me and my brothers to the core.

"What is this?" shouts Duncan over the howling of the indoor wind. His hands come up to protect his face.

"It's wind, dumbass," screams Quinn, also protecting his face.

"I know _that!_ What I meant to say was how this is possible? _We're indoors!_"

"I have _no_ idea."

"Comforting," he says sarcastically.

I see Lucy's sigh but I don't hear it. Also like I feel Solange's small hand on my arm but I didn't here her approach. The wind is messing with my senses. Making me feel disorientated, confused.

Maybe it's the shock and reality of the past few moments, or all the survival and tactic training I've been taught over the years, but this wind feels like more than just wind to me. It feels planned. Infact, everything that's happened in this room feels planned. The door slamming, the arrow in Solange's chest, the lights going out, and now this strange wind. The door has shut and magically locked itself from the outside all by itself? I don't think so. The lights blinking out at the exact moment we enter the room? It could be coincidence, but it all feels to perfectly timed to be a coincidence. And then this wind. Blinding us in its intensity, confusing our senses. Making us the perfect defenceless prey. And where did that arrow come form? Nobody in here fired it. Nobody even has a bow. Not to mention that not a soul in this room would even think of harming Solange. That means that it was already in this room. A booby trap. Then why didn't it hit_ us_ in the chest? We came in first, then Solange. Unless in was _planned_ for Solange. But then how did the person who set up this said trap know that she was going to be here and when she was going to enter the room?

The facts just create more questions in my head. They circle and beat at my skull like a swarm of angry hornets. Meanwhile, the wind hasn't calmed, if anything it's become stronger, almost knocking Sebastian and me off our feet.

I need to tell them. I need to tell them what I think may be the truth. That we are trapped in this room like flies in a spider's web. That we've been led here blindly and forcibly by someone possibly looking to harm us, maybe worse. But before I can get the words out of my mouth the wind stops. Suddenly and without warning. Just disappears like it was never there. The silence deafens me. In the warped mirror over the sink I see that I look stunned like Lucy and my siblings.

Slowly I lower my arms from in front of my face. "Is… that it?"

"I… think so," says Connor hesitantly.

"What was that all _about_?" Asks Quinn, as he runs his hand though his tousled hair.

"Guys, I don't think that's it," says Lucy, eyes wide. "Look."

As one we all look over to where Lucy is pointing. A small blue light shines above us. Not an electrical light as I first thought, but a suspended, quivering illumination that is radiating light in pulsing blue waves. It grows slowly bigger, warping into different shapes as if it can't be contained. Marcus falls back a step, looking up in awe. Its light fills the room, casting a blue glow on everything in its path, including everyone's frightened faces that look unearthly bathed in the glow.

I open my mouth to form words that were earlier forgotten. Nothings comes out except empty air so I close it again. It seems my voice has disappeared along with the wind.

"Nicholas," whimpers Solange. Somehow I can hear her over the roaring in my ears. She tightens her grip on my arm.

I find her hand as the light becomes brighter and squeeze it. My brothers come and stand next to me, never looking away from it. Though Lucy comes hesitantly, she still comes and takes my hand in hers. It's the wrong time to notice the warmth of her hand, so I pretend I never do.

Only when the light threatens to touch our faces does it stop. It stops growing and takes on the shape of a face. A woman. Her hair waves in non-existent wind and her eyes glint with hatred. I don't recognise her.

_Drakes_. Her mouth doesn't move but we can hear her voice. It's almost like it's projected straight into our heads. It's cold and heartless and unlike any voice I've ever heard. Lucy shivers beside me. My hands become damp and my blood turns cold.

_Drakes, you have been sent here for a purpose. You can't escape me or your capturer and you shouldn't try. It will result in consequences, and you don't want to know what those consequences are. You shouldn't trust me. You shouldn't trust any of us. I'm not on your side, Drakes. I'm just the messenger. Part of a much bigger purpose, a purpose that you can't even begin to imagine. But you have to do as I say, even as it'll lead you to your deaths. He's waiting for you. He's been waiting for so long and he's not going to wait any longer. You've got to go to him. Find the second door or we'll have to force you. We've got ways, Drakes. As you've seen. And they only get worse. So use your heads, drakes, and find the door. I don't want to have to come back. _

With that she vanishes like smoke. The room plunges back into dull shades of grey. The burning smell of Sulphur, left behind by the woman made of light, tickles my nose. Duncan clears his throat and Lucy lets go of my hand.

"What did she mean? Find the door?" I ask.

"The _second_ door," corrects Logan. Then he walks over to Duncan where they supposedly have a quiet conversation.

The rest off us are left milling, not sure what to do with ourselves. Quinn repeatedly runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I recognise as a nervous tick. My own nervous tick is in motion. My fingers twitch and shake.

"What did that light lady mean by 'second door'?" Asks Lucy, pursing her lips.

"Light lady?" Connor laughs.

"Did she mention a name?" Marcus asks Quinn.

"No she didn't, Marcus."

"I didn't think so."

"We got it!" Logan's outburst cuts through the awkward conversations that had formed around me.

"Yes we have little brother." Duncan sounds smug and pleased with himself. They perform a very elaborate hand shake.

"Sorry to interrupt the bro-mance you guys have going on," says Lucy. "But what is it you guys have got?"

"The answer."

"Answer?"

"Answer."

"Which is…?" I ask. I try to mask my inappropriate urge to laugh with an unconvincing cough as I watch Lucy start dancing on the spot.

Her stern glare shuts me up. "I know the answer and I'm happy about it, so shut up. The second door. It's obvious." She sighs as she looks at the many confused faces around her. As her gaze rests on Logan and Duncan and their happiness that is almost visible in the air around them, she smiles.

"At least _they_ get it," she mutters to herself, but I'm close enough just to catch it.

"Fine, I'll explain it. It can't be the door we came through, can it? That's locked from the outside so we can't get through that. So the_ second_ door. There has to be another way in and out of this room. There are no other _doors_ to this room so the exit can't be a door. We're looking for a passage. The house is old enough to have them. Built in secret passages. It's brilliant and wacky enough to may be true. I'm not ruling anything out after what's just happened. What do you guys think?"

After a few minutes of arguing the possibility of secret passages we finally agree to check. Lucy's right though – it's a wacky idea but too much's happened today for us to rule it out straight away.

It OK to say that I feel like an idiot when I'm prodding and pulling at a wall. Nothing has happened after fifteen minutes of shuffling and hitting furniture and we're all starting to lose hope in Lucy's idea. Even Lucy herself. I watch sadly as the hope that blossomed there slowly drains away.

"We haven't checked the toilet yet," says Solange hopefully. She's also noticed the tiredness in Lucy's eyes.

With a determined nod she walks over to the toilet. We stop and stare at her progress, all frozen. She pokes it and springs back like it oozes acid. Her other hand reaches up to flush it and I can almost smell the fear that rolls off her skin. The sound of the flush echoes in the quiet of the room.

"Well I guess it's not…" Solange trails off as she watches in disbelief as the toilet and part of the wooden floor around it sink into the ground.

Lucy springs away with a yelp as the hole threatens to swallow her. I grab her hand and haul her up so she doesn't fall. Green and the smell of damp waft up from the crevice. Distantly, water's dripping. My mouth, I think, is practically hitting the floor, along with Sebastian's.

Never in a million years did I think there would actually be a secret passage in our new house. Trust mum and dad to actually get one that did.

"Come on or that 'Light Lady' will come back," I call teasingly and jump down into the hole.

Six thuds sound behind me as my brothers' land. Lucy and Solange get helped down by Duncan and Sebastian.

"Come on then," drawls Quinn as he takes the lead and saunters away into the darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

Solange's POV

We've been making steady progress along the passage. Occasionally my shoulder brushes along small roots protruding from the wall or what I guess is one of my brothers. Glass lanterns line the rounded mud walls at regular intervals. The memory of the arrow entering my chest is still strong in my mind. The agonising bite of pain even more so. I can't help but wonder why there had been one there in the first place. Presumably mum had checked the whole house before we'd been aloud to set foot in the place. Oh, well there's no point in dwelling on it. The sooner I forget about it the better.

"How long have we been walking?" Lucy wonders. I don't think she meant to say in out loud.

Quinn's kicking a rock with his toe. Logan's moaning because it keeps hitting him in the ankle. A normal day with my annoying brothers.

"Not long Lucy. Only about half an hour," says Nicholas.

I can't help but wonder what Lucy and Nicholas were talking about earlier. And what happened in the courtyard. She says it was nothing but I don't think so. Besides, Nicholas was acting to shifty for that to be all there was. Again, I have bigger things to worry about.

Like where this passage leads to.

And who that 'Light Lady' as Lucy puts it, is. And how she knows who we are.

Why are our lives so messed up?

"Did anyone else hear that?" Asks Duncan, stopping suddenly.

So suddenly that I crash right into him and fall to the ground with an 'oof'. He pulls me up and dusts me off.

"Sorry little sister."

"Wait! I—I hear it to," hisses Lucy, also stopping.

Simultaneously Quinn and Conner stop. Marcus, who is way ahead of us, gets pulled back by Nicholas. Everyone else freezes mid-step, and leans towards the darkness.

Now that everyone's stopped and there are no footsteps, I hear it to. Only faintly, because my vampire hearing is pretty weak, but I defiantly hear it. Shuffling and scratching. The kind of scratching you'd make if your nails scraped against the wall. And the kind of shuffling you'd make if you were feral and vampire… and hungry. It could have been any vampire except for the smell. Rotten mushrooms and pond water clog up my nose, making me gag.

Hel-blar.

But what emerges out of the darkness isn't Hel-blar. It's the 'Light Lady'. She isn't glowing but she's still as cold and hard as she was before, even though she looks like she's made of smoke.

_Quickly._ Her voice in my head again. _He has sent them to distract you for he only truly wants one of you to survive. There will be challenges to try to get rid of you. Many will succeed in doing just that. Every wrong turn you make will take you longer to get to him, and as I said before, he wants to see you as quickly as possible so he will send 'distractions' to set you on the right course. Don't try and fight them, for he will have bigger punishments if you get to him unscathed. Try as I know you must Drakes, for I will be sad to see you gone._

Again, she disappears as though she was never there, leaving us with just the passage to see. The Hel-Blar have gained on us. I can see the unnatural glint of their eyes and the occasional glimpse of their mottled blue skin.

Nicholas tenses for a second, curses, and then pulls a sharpened stake out from his coat. When everyone has managed to get hold of a weapon, including me, only a couple of seconds have passed. That long because Lucy's stake was so far wedged into her boot that she couldn't get it out. Even then the Hel-blar are upon us like an angry swarm of blue cockroaches. There are six of them, all crazed, all savage. Saliva drips from their clacking teeth as they pounce.

A woman with knotted hair lunges for my throat. I duck and spin until I'm behind her, and then kick her legs out from under her. She falls hard and screams as my stake plunges into her chest. I hear a snap and a curse and see that Conner just taken a hit in the nose. Nicholas dusts one and I hold my breath so I don't breathe him in. Now that he's free, he runs to Lucy, were she is trying her best to avoid the needle sharp teeth of a Hel-Blar inches from her face. He grabs her shirt and pulls her back from Lucy were my best friend then proceeds to perform a round house kick in her chest. Duncan finishes her off from were he stands fighting another Hel-blar. He throws a stake and it flies true and hits the woman straight in the heart. Vampire dust settles in their hair. There are still three Hel-blar left to stake. Sebastian miscalculates a Hel-blar's move and gets thrown into the wall. The man's shirt is hanging off his blue skin. Sebastian leaps to his feet but before he can stake him I throw mine from were I've been observing the battle. It hits him just to the left of his heart. He screams and claws at his chest and finally turns to a pile of ash when Sebastian stakes him through the back. Marcus is having a very intense battle with another male Hel-blar on his own. He ducks a punch to the jaw but can't avoid the one to his stomach. The rest of us left unoccupied rush to help him and Conner. Both Hel-Blar swipe out in a mad attempt to draw blood.

As if a silent command has been spoken we all group and herd the Hel-Blar together. They don't have weapons but they have killer aim. One kicks me in the neck. My head snaps back as I gasp for breath. Lucy lets out an extreme battle yell and charges forward, stake raised high above her head. My brothers don't have time to stop her as they are fighting an extremely skilled Hel-Blar woman. She just keeps blocking their attacks and breaking their stakes. I'm caught watching in horror as Lucy looses her stake to the Hel-Blar man and he thrusts it at her.

Everything slows. I can't get to her in time. They're to far away. She's already be dead by the time I got there. My brothers' grunts slow down and warp in my ears. I don't want to watch but at the same time I can't draw my eyes away.

Logan finally stakes the Hel-blar. Dust floats down onto his shoes. They turn to me, smiling, thinking all of them are dead. Instead they see Lucy, seconds away from death. Nicholas makes a choked sound in the back of his throat. He too, is to far away to help her.

I hear a click and smell Sulphur. Something whizzes by my ear. The Hel-Blar woman turns straight to dust. Lucy's stake and a knife clatter to the floor._ A_ _knife almost hit me in the head._

Six large piles of dust and everybody are still standing. Quinn saunters back to from were he was presumably fighting a seventh Hel-Blar, the smile and stake says it all. He doesn't know what almost happened to Lucy. After we tell him, and after the concern in his eyes has faded, we stare, in silence, trying to catch our breath.

'**! PAGE BREAK! '**

Lucy's POV

I continue the rest of the journey with shaking legs. The image of the crazed, feral lady feels like it's been stamped on my mind. I've always known life with the Drakes was dangerous and I accepted it. But not once have I come that close to dying. It scared the hell out of me.

I try my best to ignore the pitying looks everybody has been sending me, and leap out the way when Solange and then Nicholas try to comfort me. The best way for me to deal with this is to ignore it and hope one day I forget it.

After the unexpected Hel-Blar attack ten minutes ago everybody has been on high alert; muscles tense, eyes alert. Which I must say doesn't look to bad on Nicholas. Especially the muscle thing. You can almost make them out from under his shirt. I really must stop thinking these things. Must be the shock talking. I _hope_ it's the shock talking, I really do.

Because if it's not then I'm screwed.

Through my Nicholas induced dread I can feel the fang burning in my pocket. I feel so aware of it and so aware that I haven't told anybody yet. I'm probably going to regret that in the future. Not telling anybody, I mean. But whenever I try to open my mouth to form the words – there have been many times – a wave of nausea and panic so strong it almost makes me pass out crashes down on me like a ton of bricks. So I keep my mouth firmly shut about it.

The passage is slowly getting thinner as we walk further and further into it. Now we have to walk two-by-two. I'm smashed up against Marcus who takes up quite a bit of room. The smell is also getting worse. I dread to think what it's like for vampires if my human nose can't stand it. The smell of Sulphur, damp and decay all swirl through the air.

Unlike before, thick roots arch from the ceiling, instead of micro-ones. They twist and loop over us in graceful patterns, some of them even crawling onto the floor. After a while, I'm taking such huge steps I'm almost doing the splits.

Logan grunts and swings his leg up even higher. "How long is this going to last? Do you think this is a 'distraction'?"

"I don't know. Maybe," says Duncan.

Connor opens is mouth to say something just as Sebastian whirls to face us and screams, "STOP! All of you just _stop_! Do. Not. Move a muscle."

We all stop dead at the serious and frantic emotion in his voice. Never in my life have I seen Sebastian's cool mask ever falter. We must be standing in deeper shit than we already were.

"What?" Solange hisses, eyes crazed with fear.

Sebastian takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Just don't move while I figure out what we're going to do."

"Let us help." After receiving no answer Solange's voice turns forceful. "Let us_ help_, Seb."

"Yeah," I say. "Let us help."

Looking like a child, Sebastian glances at us. Seeing our expressions, he looks torn and then explodes out with, "We've walked right into their trap. We're going to die if we move and set off those lasers." He points in front of us, where surely enough, dozens of lasers shine from the walls. Quinn's eyes widen as he sees how close he is – the tip of his nose is a millimetre away - , gulps and takes a healthy step back.

"Lets just… find another way round?" Says Nicholas, voice squeaky. My brow furrows as I see him take a small step in front of me, shielding me.

"There _is_ no other way around, bro," says Marcus.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Crap."

"Yeah."

"Wait," I interrupt. "Can you guys remember watching that film with me? What was it…?" I think for a second. "St Trinian's. Yeah, that's it."

"Yeah, I remember, Lucy," Solange says, confused. "But… why have you brought it up?"

I stare at her. "It had a scene just like this. Lasers and stuff. They put on some music and danced their way through them." I look around me, at the brothers. "Any of you have an IPod?"

"You can't possibly be suggesting that we _dance through lasers_! That was a _film_! It wasn't _real_!" Says Marcus, exasperated as Nicholas fishes through his pocket and hands me a battered looking IPod.

I raise an eyebrow at Marcus, grateful accepting the IPod off Nicholas. "This is a book. Anything can happen, right?"

"What? A _book_?"

I clamp my hand over my mouth, heart suddenly pounding. "N-Nothing. I didn't say anything."

Everyone stares at me a moment longer before Logan shakes his head and mutters something under his breath.

"Right," Solange says, smiling slightly. "Switch it on."

I click PLAY and music suddenly blasts out. Funnily enough it's the same exact song off the St Trinian's laser scene.

"Appropriate," I giggle.

Over the next couple of minutes the Drakes and I shimmy and twist our way through the course. It doesn't last long and by the end of the song we're done and on the other side.

"Easy," says Quinn.

"Easy," I echo but something has caught my eye so I sound distracted.

Hanging form the wall, looking awfully familiar is something that fires dread straight into the pit of my stomach. It glints as if trying to draw me closer. Breathing heavily, I walk toward the wall, leaving everybody behind me, looking confused. It's smooth - like its sister - and deadly.

A matching fang.

Knowing I have to take it, I try tugging it from the wall. It doesn't budge and almost makes me groan when I realize it's attached to a slit in the wall, where a weapon would be fired form. Nervously glancing at the lasers, I know what I have to do to get it.

Before I can change my mind, I plunge my foot into the path of a laser, ignoring the shouts behind me. I hear a click and smell sulphur again as something hits my back and drags me backward. The arrow flies in front of my eyes and the fang falls to the floor. I scoop it up and stuff it in my pocket.

All of a sudden, Nicholas explodes before my eyes. "What the _bloody hell_ do you think you're _doing?_ _Why?_ Why would you _do_ that?"

His hands are on my shoulders and then I know it was him that saved my life a moment ago. I gasp a thank you.

"_Why?_"

"Erm… sorry?" I murmur pathetically, fighting off the nausea again as I think about telling him.

"_Sorry?_ You almost _died!_ And all you can say is _sorry?_" His fists clench and unclench by his sides, and I think maybe he's angry, but when I look at his face all I can see is vulnerability. Like he's a child that's lost a parent. And fear. Gut wrenching fear that makes my breath hitch in my throat.

"Sorry." I look over his shoulder to Solange. She's wide eyed and breathless. Shaking. "I'm sorry."

"…. Ah," she gasps for several minutes before she licks her lips and slowly carries on walking down the tunnel.

Nicholas flicks his sister's back a glance, looks back at me, and then back at her. "Forget it," he mutters and storms off after her.

I look down at my dirty shoes and when I look up again Logan has taken my elbow. Gently, he smiles at me and pulls me to a crossroads.

"Which way do you think we should take?"

I shrug and peer and Nicholas and Solange's slumped shoulders steadily moving further away down the tunnel leading to the right.

"I guess they've already decided for us?"

"MmmmHmmm," Conner hums over my shoulder. "Better follow them before we loose them."

"Yep," agrees Quinn.

As a group, we shuffle off to the right. Almost immediately a hush falls over everything and I desperately want to turn back and go a different way. Despite the freezing cold, what I can see of Nicholas doesn't show a sign of giving up or turning back on us.

Always stubborn.

The silence deepens until it's almost visible. The candles latched to the wall flicker dangerously and quickly die out, leaving us in the all too familiar blackness.

"Guys…," I moan, nervous. "I think we should have gone the other way." I gulp. "Is it the wrong time to mention I'm afraid of the dark?"

"Yes, it is, Lucy." Duncan. "Can anybody see Nicholas or Solange?"

"No."

"Damn." Duncan curses quietly. Then his voice raises until he's shouting. "Guys! Stop until we meet you! Can you here me?"

We're left waiting in agonising silence for a few seconds. Then, faintly, I hear Solange's worried voice. "Yeah I hear you! Hurry up, Okay? I hate being in the dark."

"Is Nicholas there?"

"Erm…" Seconds of silence. "Nicholas? Nicholas? NICHOLAS?! Shit!"

"Solange?" I call, more worried than I've ever been. "Where is he?"

"I… I don't know!"

Oh God, no…

Hardly aware of what I'm doing, my feet pound fast on the floor, eating up the space between us. Running blind, I crash into a wall. I barely feel the impact. Pushing myself to run faster, I hear more footsteps behind join mine. Mine and the brothers breathing is the only sound I hear for a while until a hand grabs my arm, wrenching me to a stop.

I recognise Solange's voice as sounds of everybody halting comes from beside me. "Lucy," she breathes. "I can't find him."

I splutter and cough, regaining my voice. "NICHOLAS!" I scream at the top of my lungs. "NICHOLAS!"

"Guys there's no need to shout! I'm right here!"

Yelping at the voice so near me, I lung myself in that direction and cling to him. He chuckles into my hair and squeezes me tight, before letting me go.

"Why didn't you answer us?" Asks Quinn, accusingly. Somehow, his voice sounds more menacing in pitch-dark. "You should have heard us." A pause for a second. "Vampire hearing… remember?"

"I walked to far away." I hear instead of see his smile. "I stopped and turned back because I found it odd that I couldn't hear any of you anymore. Thank God I did, though. Otherwise I would have been separated and all alone."

"Why does your voice sound different?"

"Does it?"

"Yes. Why are you acting so strange? I know you and I know that you wouldn't have come back to us the way you did. You would have sounded more… concerned? Apologetic maybe? Not… like you could have just laughed it away. Not so… cocky."

I think for a moment. "Yeah… not so cocky."

"Guys. What the hell are you talking about? I don't even..." I hear him sigh. "It's me. I know myself and I know it's me, Okay? Okay?"

Quinn laughs. "Sorry, man. Just… the tunnel, you know? It's doing things to my head. I don't even know what I was thinking. Sorry, man."

"It's messing with our heads alright. That's why we need to get out of here. As soon as possible."

**And… FINALLY DONE with this chappie! Yay! Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I seriously have no idea why on that one and I hope you can forgive me? **

**Is it to long? To short? *snort* hardly! It's like… 8 pages! Reviews are gladly welcomed. So is constructive criticism. If you have any ideas on where you'd like the story to go then PM me and I'll see if I can twist it into the current plot inside my head. **

**Oh and by the way I don't really mean to make my Chapters as long as they are. It just kinda escapes me and takes on a mind of its own. Curse me for not being able to control it! On an unrelated note: I have absolutely NO idea when I'll be next updating. I'll try and get it in before Christmas but I'm making no promises. **

**Hope you enjoyed the thing spawned from my imagination and I'll see you again very soon. Bye!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Yeah… Hiya? Okay, Okay before you start getting out the pitch-forks and torches I just wanted to apologise. **

**That's not going to cut it, is it?**

**No? … I'm so sorry for not updating before Christmas like I said I would! Although I said I couldn't make any promises… That's still not an excuse. **

**I've had this chapter half written on my computer since before I even posted chapter 4. Originally I wanted to put another chapter in before this one but then it's take time to finish that one and I just didn't want you to have to wait. **

**So cherish this because, due to my lazy habits, you won't get another one for a few months. On a totally unrelated note – to all those UNITED fans out there – I'm in the process of writing chapter 5 so don't think I've forgotten about it. I haven't! **

**Quinn's POV**

"Come on, guys. The passage can't go on for much longer." Duncan looks doubtful. We've been walking for miles. Despite what Nicholas had said about us trying to find a way out, none of us were trying. We just simply know there is no way out of this hell.

Lucy's dragging her feet, leaning heavily on Nicholas, whose standing as far from her as possible. He himself looks about ready to drop, only supporting himself by the roots coming from the walls. Solange, who is deeply out of it, is being carried by Marcus, her arm hanging limply. It must be day-time.

Although I'm not the youngest, I'm the most tired out of all of us.

And then I must be dreaming, but somehow I know I'm not.

How…?

Hasn't anybody _seen_ this?

Everything else melts away and the tunnel transforms into a totally different scene. What used to be the roof twists into sky; grey and cloudy. It's raining. Roots snake and disappear, turning into a green, flickering sign that says _BAR._ Puddles form on the street and a mysterious white gas bellows from grates in the road. A yellow car is sitting by me, looking lonely and abandoned, illuminated only by a flickering street light.

Suddenly I can't remember where I am or what I'm supposed to be doing. The bar looks inviting. I feel like I need a drink but I don't know why. A heavy sense of foreboding knifes through me but I find myself already inside, unable to act upon it.

Inside looks how I imagined it to be. It's softly lit, filled with dark corners. Several men in cravats are joking at a table, beckoning a waitress in a black dress. There's a bar with empty stools. There's a girl sitting there suddenly, and I swear she wasn't there before. I'm standing by the door so nobody could have come in.

I need to find my brothers—

Twisting on her stool, the girl looks at me. Instantly I forget what I was thinking. Why do I need to find my brothers? Her eyes hold me; a deep blue. They're hypnotizing, intoxicating. She smiles seductively and beckons me. Her teeth look to pointy—why are pointy teeth important? It doesn't matter._ There's a pretty girl wanting to talk to you and you've got a whole bar full of drinks, why are you wasting the time worrying about how you got here? _

I smile back and take my place in the stool next to hers, pushing my thoughts away. She beckons to a bar-tender and orders two shots and the bar-tender places them down in front of us and walks to serve somebody else. We're left alone, in our own little dark corner.

"Bottoms up," she purrs and we both down our drinks. I almost splutter.

There's a ring on her finger. It looks almost like Lucy's—I get flashes of a knife flying toward Lucy's heart. A Hel-Blar becomes dust when it hits her in the chest instead.

What the hell?

"Are you OK?" She purrs again. She lays one dainty hand on my arm.

"Fine." Although I feel as if I should remember something.

"So what brings you down here?" She looks a little to forced to make conversation. She hides it behind another flirtatious smile.

"I… don't know. I guess I'm just here," I say pathetically. My mind's still plagued by the heavy sense of dread and the images of Lucy almost dying.

"Oh…" It doesn't look as if I was supposed to say that. She looks so strained; as if she's supposed to follow a script and I'm getting all the lines wrong. I get another glimpse of her eyes and I forget about her slip-up. "That happens to the best of us, doesn't it?"

"What does?"

"Nothing." Another smile. "Forget I said anything."

I'm confused. I can't remember sitting down with the girl. I don't know who she is. "How did….?"

A sudden burst of laughter distracts me. Looking over my shoulder, I see the men in cravats again. There's a spilled beer dripping onto the floor which the waitress is trying to mop up with a rag. The laughter's too loud. Nothing like the laughter at other bars when a drink is spilled. More like the laugh of a really bad actor trying to seem real. I can't think when it's booming in my ear drums. It's made especially loud by the fact that I have vampire sensitive hearing.

Wait a minute! Vampire. Vampire. _Vampire!_ The pointy teeth, the mysterious eyes… She has to be a vampire! How had I forgotten something as important as that?

Darting round to face the vampire girl again, I plan to confront her. But when I see the stool, it's empty. No girl in sight. The bar is small; I can see everywhere inside but she's not here. Feeling more than a little shaken, I shout to the bar-tender that I need a beer. _Maybe I imagined her?_ I think as I guzzle my drink.

Not moving, with the bottle lip touching my chin, I quietly say to the cravat-wearing men – now that I think about it, isn't wearing cravats in this day and age… well… a little strange? – "Was there a girl sitting next to me?—"I incline my head to the stool. "—on that stool?"

Clinking glasses and sniggering. Muted words being exchanged. "No," says a low voice. "There wasn't a girl sitting there. However much we all may dream there to be."

I imagined her. Great. Add crazy to my list of problems. "Thanks, man—"

"Unless," he interrupts. "You mean _that_ girl. _She's_ here, alright."

"What?—"

The room flickers. Instead of there being a cute little bar nestled where I'm sitting, there's a grubby, run-down wreck. I jump from my seat, startled. My beer bottle smashes. The booming laugh of the man becomes warped and twisted. Broken. As quickly as it came, what I'm seeing is replaced again. Not the duel scenes of the bar, but a tunnel. Then a desert. A street. Park. Seafront. They're changing like a bored child is switching TV shows. Finally, it settles back to the bar, but it's not inviting any more. I want to get back to my brothers but I don't were they, or myself, are.

If it could, my heart would be hammering against my chest. I stumble back, crashing into a disused table. I'm gasping for breath even though I don't need it. Looking menacing, the thug slowly rises from his chair. His companions are watching, eager.

"You shouldn't 'av seen that, me boy," he says, mouth stretching into a horrible smile. He's missing some vital teeth. "I guess we'll 'av to sort that out, won't we?"

Suddenly I know that if he decides to use me a punching bag, I won't stand a chance. I'm a vampire, yes. I've got speed and strength. But he's got brawn and muscle. He's tough and can probably last a lot longer under pressure. My fangs and stakes don't reassure me now. Instead they just make me feel frustrated.

Distantly, I can see the bar has changed again. On the walls the paint is chipped. The wood making up the bar is grey and rotting. There are broken glasses under my feet and the crack when I shift my weight. The stool I was previously sitting on is overturned and the leg has snapped off, lying at its side. The thug – who is almost at arms distance from me – gasps and looks startled. His eyes meet mine and I see fear in them. His friends have disappeared; in their place are a mixture of barrels and one raven, whose eyes are beady and black. The thug tries to say something to me. Instead of words there's only air and a wheezing sound. /He explodes into dust and ash and floats down to land on my boots.

_Alright,_ I tell myself after the shock of what's just happened has wore off. _Move!_ _Get out of here! _

Just as I'm about to start moving on unsteady legs, there's a sound. After a moment it's there again.

A light flickers on. Underneath, in its spotlight, is the girl. Her skin is blue and mottled and her hair is falling over her face - which is bowed - in greasy strands. Her once beautiful clothes are now ripped and spoiled, hanging off her body. Though she's Hel-Blar she seems to have control of herself. Nothing I've seen before, but neither is this bar. Her stench is even gone. I hold my breath, waiting for her to move, to speak, to do something. Her standing motionless is starting to creep me out.

Scarily slow her eyes meet mine. I can't see them because of all the hair, but I imagine their intensity.

"I wanted to finish you off myself, Quinn Drake," she murmurs, her voice carrying.

I laugh with little humour. "It was hardly fair though, was it? That man wanted to have a go. You should have let him try."

"Not man." Her torn dress billows around her feet. "Projection."

"What?"

"He wasn't man. He wasn't real." He voice sounds childish and innocent, though the menacing smile suggests otherwise.

I need to keep her talking. I need to have the advantage. Though having the advantage is starting to look a little hard.

"How do you make a man talk, _walk_, if he isn't real?"

Slowly I edge my hand inside my jacket, fumbling to find a stake.

She growls, sounding annoyed. "No time for chatter. You're going to die."

I try to keep humour in my smile, instead of the dread I'm feeling. "If I'm going to die, like you say then shouldn't the last words I here be a secret I'm not supposed to know?"

She growls again, sounding like a rabid dog. "No."

"Ah, please?" I find the stake and grip it tightly. I try not to let the relief show on my face. She must have seen the minute movement inside of my jacket because she runs at me. She's fast, blurring round the edges. Strapped to her back is a _Brokken _and she draws it and aims it at me while she's running. Next to the curved, wooden blade my stake looks stupid. Like something a child would play with. I aim it at her all the same because it's the only weapon I have. As she nears me, I flip and land behind her. I smile and thrust the stake at her heart. She disappears like smoke, leaving the smell of Sulphur behind.

"Shit," I mutter as I whirl in a tight circle. "Not fair."

Then she's in front of me, face inches from mine. Her hair has fallen from in front of her and I can see her clearly. Her features are ugly, mangled as if somebody had stirred them around with a spoon and forgotten to put them back. I jolt and scream, stumbling over a chair leg. I right myself before I fall and see her round-house kick coming for my nose. It smashes into me. And almost immediately I feel the bruising along my cheekbone. I think my nose may be broken too.

_I'm fighting one powerful chick._

The brokken comes down on me. I have no time to move, just brace for the hit. It slashes me in the shoulder, but not the heart. Again in the torso and arm.

_This chick wants me hurt before she kills me. _

"Come on, Drake," She screams. "This is supposed to be a challenge! That's what they promised me!"

"Who promised you?" I grunt.

"Never mind," she says sweetly, withdrawing her weapon to take another hit. She's smiling; the movement twists her face even more and makes me want to gag.

Pushing the feeling away, I get to my feet. Blood is dribbling from my nose, feeling warm on my palm when I swipe it away. She doesn't look bothered by the blood. In fact, she looks repulsed by it. By my feet I see a discarded chair leg, its end splintered. So fast I blur around the edges, I duck and swipe it up. It blocks her brokken, pushing it away.

_Much more of a match than a stake._

She grunts and tries to punch me. I lean away from it and kick her in the chest. She doesn't fall like I want but she looks slightly distracted by trying to keep her balance. It's probably the only chance I'm going to get. Quickly, I snatch her Brokken from her; it's heavy and it takes a lot for me to hold it up. She screams; a sound of pure fury. Her nails are sharp and jagged. I see that when she tries to claw out my eyes. Her nails dig into my skin, drawing blood and they don't heal. Instead they just keep bleeding, the red liquid staining my shirt.

_She's going to die._

With a battle yell – combat is never complete without one – I shove the Brokken into her chest. She whimpers and looks so sad I feel tears pricking my eyes.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper. I gently pull the weapon out of her chest. It's stained with her blood.

"I can't die," She says quietly, triumphantly. "I'll be back for you, Quinn Drake."

The last I hear from her is mad chuckling before she turns into smoke. Not dust. She's not dead. I can still see the outline of her eyes and the shape of her mouth as she laughs and vanishes through a grate in the ceiling.

She's gone and I'm alone. With just a raven and broken glass for company. I blink as memories flood my mind: of the tunnel and the house and of mum and dad.

I have no idea where I am. Somewhere below the house, I think. I need to find my brothers and hope that they've not fallen for the temptations that I have, and that they're OK.

_God I hope they're OK._

**Do you like it? **

**I hope you did. If you didn't then feel free to poke me with a pitch-fork. **

**I'm open to constructive criticism and just general reviewing. They make me write better and help me improve so it's a better story for you guys.**

**Lucy.**

**P.S. That **_**is**_** my real name!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Drake Chronicles. Alyxandra Harvey does. **

Logan's POV

***This happens just after Quinn enters the bar at the start of Chapter 5.***

The back of my neck prickles, hairs standing to attention. I shiver. Anticipation's cloudy, hanging over my limbs with the weight of a wet blanket. Something feels wrong, and it makes me uncomfortable. There's a lapse in my breathing as the feeling makes its decent, and I whistle shrilly for everybody to stop. They do, and the disturbed air wafts back to greet me, the smell of festering damp even stronger than before.

I'd gag if it didn't feel like my throat had closed up.

Connor walks to me. He stops at a comfortable distance, though I can still see the hard line of his pursed lips. Shadows fall over his eyes. He looks a lot more tired than usual. If I hadn't of been his brother, I'd of backed away.

"What?" He says lowly. His voice is deadly, slowly pressing prickly spikes of trepidation into my back. I try my best to hide another shiver.

"Something's wrong," I say as the rest of the brood emerge out of the shadows engulfing the tunnel, coming to stand next to Connor with steely resolves and determined stares. Lucy ambles up behind them, peering over Duncan's shoulder curiously.

"What is it?" Asks Lucy loudly. She's cheerfully oblivious to the dark mood hanging between us. "Well?" She asks again when no one offers an answer.

I look at her straight in the eye. I note how she gulps with sudden fear, and I soften my stare just a fraction. "Where's Quinn?" I raise a worried eyebrow.

The silence is even thicker than before. I can almost see them thinking. Their stillness is allowing bad thoughts to creep into my head. Worry and another feeling I can't place settle over me, adding to the already frightening whirlpool of emotions I've been feeling since finding this place. What if something bad is going to happen to Quinn? What if something's already happened and we're too late? I start to sweat. It takes a lot to make a vampire sweat, and that's how I know the situation has reached a peek of new heights.

Connor punches the wall. A hard packed clump topples and falls onto his foot. I wince sympathetically. Something's not right about his face, and he looks painfully older, deep lines suddenly creasing up his face. He looks paler than usual, almost gray. Duncan glances at Connors fist briefly as Nicholas's eyes widen in realisation.

I finger the hem of my lace cuff nervously. I'm pissed at myself for not noticing he'd been separated from us earlier. How could I have not seen? I feel so stupid. It's my fault; he was right behind me, after all, barely a foot from me, and I missed the signs. Where had the hours of painstaking training gone?

Lucy makes a noise. "He's—He's not… here," she murmurs finally. Her voice is faint. I only just catch it over the guilty pounding in my ears, beating steadily to the haunting tune of the death march.

"Okay, Okay," orders Marcus, adopting a well nursed business tone. He ushers for everyone to quieten down. Truly, I have no idea how he can be so calm. "Let's not panic. I'm sure he's not far. It's probably just harmless, a mistake, in all honesty."

"Yeah," scoffs Solange rudely. She spins to glare at Marcus, who, in all fairness, shrinks away from the imitation of 'the Helena glare' as well as the rest of us, leaning safely away from her current emotional rampage. I understand it, but, honestly, why does she have to be so goddam good at it? "Take a look at where we are, Marcus, what we've been through. Does it look like a fricking harmless mistake to you? Huh?!"

My hand flutters automatically to comfort her, though it feels as if somebody should be comforting me. He's my brother, and, despite everything, I love him, and would do anything to keep him, and the rest of my brothers, safe. On top of all that, it feels as though I've failed them personally. My hand falters when her sharp glare swings to me. Acid shoots from her eyes, wildly alert and awake, burning my body. Subconsciously, Lucy cowers.

"Don't, Logan," she warns darkly. "This is my fault, don't try to comfort me."

"How is it your fault?" I ask quietly.

"Shut up, Logan, for God's sake! We should be finding him, not chatting away like this!"

I see something in her snap right then. The straining leash reining her sanity and temper has snapped, and she's spitting insults and obscenities faster than I can process. I stumble out of her range of fire. Duncan eases grimly forward, face straight, and clamps a restraining arm around her elbow.

"Shush, Solange," he whispers. "It's going to be… be Okay…"

The many faces in my line of vision waver slightly, like heat rising off asphalt. I see many arms rub the same forehead, but the face is too blurred for me to make out clearly. Duncan's voice fades off.

There's a sound, like something sliding open, repeated several times. Then there's a steady hissing. A white gas winded around our bodies, caressing throats. It's thick, and there's coughing, and I can't make out anything through it anymore. I'm alone, separated, and I don't have the energy to try and fight. I would, on principle, but the more I involuntarily breathe it in, the more I find myself rendered useless.

There's no clean air. The gas is isolated to a small space, and it isn't long until I hear dry thuds, one after the other, like the death march in my head. I take one last forbidden breath, one that I have no control over, and the thick wall of white slowly turns to a never-ending abyss of blackness.

As I'm falling, I could've sworn I saw red eyes glare at me, but before I can register them, they're gone.

* * *

><p>The sun's shining.<p>

That's how I know that everything's not as it should be. The tingling on my pale skin feels so good. It's not burning me, and that in itself should worry me, but, strangely, I can't find it in myself to care. I've missed the warmth, and I want to lie in it all day.

But I'm interrupted.

I hear snarling. Jaws clicking, nails scraping, ripping and killing. My eyes snap open. The sunlight dazzles, and I put a hand over my eyes to shield them. There's a thick border of trees ringing around a grassy meadow. I'm sitting smack bang in the middle, sprawled out uncomfortably on my back. Startled, I sit up when I see the blue smudges flitting about behind thick trunks. Mottled blue hands reach for me, for anything near, desperation forcing whines and angry snarls from their throats.

It's the Hel-Blar. Hundreds of them, ringing me from the start of the forest, trying, but never coming out from the bed of dried leaves below the canopy. Slowly, I reach down for my boot and pull out a stake. Wild-flowers and stalks of long grass tickle my knuckles. My one stake's pitiful against a frenzied swarm this size, but I grip it menacingly anyway.

I feel strangely relaxed. The only thing that makes me growl is when I see the worked in dirt and dried flower petal stuck to my pristine lace cuff. It's my favourite.

I start to walk along the length of the grassy clearing. It's quite large, with enough diameter for me to have more than enough space to sprint without coming close to the first branch of any of the trees or a outgrown bloodied nail of any of the Hel-Blar.

I pick up my pace. Frowning, I start to jog, and then run, then sprint, pushing myself until I'm just a blur of pale skin. My fangs sting my gums as they elongate out of confusion and frustration.

Despite running long enough, I don't reach the end. I don't reach the trees or the ferns that grow under their shadows. I'm moving, but so is the meadow, faster, faster still until I can't see the end and I'm hardly moving, running through air that's turned to honey.

I grunt as the trees either side of me shrink in and the ones in front and behind fan out. Unlike before, when I was travelling in relative safety, I'm sprinting treacherous ground. The hands of the Hel-Blar can almost touch me. Brave, the reach out farther. One of the grasps my arm. I shake it of, pushing myself faster until my legs burn and I'm short of breath even though I don't need it.

And then there's no time to notice any of that.

The sky darkens. Clouds flock the sky fast, covering the warm glow of the sun. The very second it's gone, the Hel-blar jump from behind the shadows of the trees. I stop. My eyes widen and I draw in a final fowl tasting breath.

But even then they're on me. It's like a sea of mottled blue from all directions, pressing in, clambering over each other in a mad attempt to be the first to get me. There's no gap in the swarm. There's no glimmer of grass or flowers, only the thick stench of swamp water.

I'm enveloped. The one stake I had is flung from my fingertips as I'm toppled by a blue battering ram.

One Hel-Blar climbs the rest clawing at my skin, eyes crazed with hunger.

A million tiny needles pierce my skin.

There's pain, of course there's pain. I can feel blood.

But as I fade, so does their smell, and the feelings of warm liquid on my arms. I'm left with the sky, so bright, so beautiful, so missed. I gaze up at it.

I'm not sad or angry. I can't find anything to be sad or angry about. What's bad when there's sky, and sun and warmth? These are the things I've missed, and for the first time in a long time I can smile without fangs or hunger or all those other things that made life difficult.

And as thoughts leave me, and as everything else dies, the sun remains. It blazes, never-ending, even in death, and will shine forever.

I'm at peace.

**Oh, my God, did I just do that? **

**Did I just kill Logan?**

**Oh, my God. **

**You probably hate me, but, yeah, it's kind of crucial to the plot. Don't send my dead babies in the post.**

**Please, because—because- I FEEL TERRIBLE!**

**I'm going to cry now…** **Why did I even create a story where the story had to involve death? Poor Logan, R.I.P.**


End file.
